One Moment Can Change Everything
by readallday
Summary: It's the 74th Hunger Games, following the story behind Foxface and what would happen if Katniss and Peeta never won the Hunger Games...
1. Chapter 1

Making sense of the world is one of the biggest tasks I can set my mind to. Where do I, a skinny, freckle-faced girl, fit in? I'm just another mouth for my family to feed, a phrase which wouldn't mean as much if my family was only small, but I have four siblings and we live in the poorest area of District Five. My father works for the corporation that supplies power for the whole of Panem, so in my eyes he is very important, but he doesn't think so. Because of the area we live in, he isn't permitted to do anything too important, because he 'cannot be trusted'. They suppose he'll steal something to help our family, but he wouldn't, and I know it. My father is an honest man. He is no thief.

My mother stays at home and grows what she can in around our house to sell at the market, but it's difficult to grow things in the mud-covered ground that is District Five. I help as much as I can, cooking and cleaning and doing whatever else needs doing, and my mother appreciates it. It isn't long until Lear, my elder brother, will be able to join my father in his work. It's only three months until he turned eighteen. Luckily for him, that means three months until his name will be taken out of the reaping, although that also means he can't sign up for tesserae anymore. Lear has always insisted on taking enough tessarae for the whole family, meaning his name is entered an extra six times each year, so at this years reaping, his name will be in there over forty times. I just hope he doesn't get chosen. My other two siblings, Marta and Ria, and I are not signed up for tesserae, so our names our only there once extra each year, but next year, I will have to sign up for it, because once Lear has turned eighteen, I will be the eldest entered in the reaping in our family.

I lie on the blankets that we lay out on the floor of the kitchen each night so we can sleep in comfort. Everyone is out of the house apart from Ria and I and we lie there, talking about reaping day, that we both know is only tomorrow. Ria is twelve, and this is her first reaping day that she is actually an entrant. I remember how I felt on my first day. I was terrified, but since then it has just become a part of my life that remains terrifying, but I suppose I'm more used to it now.

"I'm scared Fenna," Ria sobs. I can feel her shaking beside me, but I don't know what to say. I'm not good with words.

"It'll be all right," I say, attempting to comfort her. I look at her face, wet with tears. "Think about it. You're name is only entered once. It's not likely you will be chosen," I finish.

"But it's possible," she replies. I hate that she's right. She inherited my father's logical mind. It's unlikely, but not impossible.

"If you're name does get called out, I will take your place, I promise. And I'm sure Lear will too," I reassure, but once the words are out of my mouth, I feel a knot in my stomach. A reminder of tomorrow, a reminder of things to come. What if my name gets called out? I have never considered it properly, it just seems unreal.


	2. Chapter 2

I decide to take my mind off of that, so I leave Ria to her thoughts and walk out of the house and into the forest that wraps around the edge of District Five. I like to come here sometimes, when I need to think without interruption. As I walk, wearing my worn-out old boots, I pick berries from the bushes I pass and pile them into the pockets of my sweater. Foraging is in my nature, my mother tells me. I learnt the craft from my grandmother, gaining knowledge of the different berries around Five that are edible and the ones that are poisonous. According to my mother, I'm very like my grandmother was, in the way I am quiet, but clever. It's reassuring to know that if I do get put in the Games, I will know what I can and can't eat. A skill that I bet none of the self-centred careers will have.

After my pockets are full of berries, I return home. It's dusk when I reach the house, but my mother won't mind. She knows I was in the forest; I always am. I pour the contents of my pockets into a bowl from the cupboard and put it on the table in the kitchen. The blankets have been put away, but I still see Ria sitting on the floor, staring vacantly. I'll leave her be for the moment. She doesn't look like she wants to talk. Lear must be out chopping wood for the fire, and Marta is probably helping.

"I picked these for dinner. I hope it helps," I say to my mother. She turns from the work surface and smiles.

"Thank you. It does help a lot," she replies, and returns to her cooking. I take a seat next to Ria, but she doesn't acknowledge me. I hug her tightly.

"I told you, it'll be all right," I say, quietly. I can hear her sobbing. We sit like this for what seems like such a long time, and I don't know whether it is helping her or not. I know I would prefer someone next to me, even if they don't say anything, because it's better than being alone. She seems to think so too, because she doesn't shake me away.

When the time comes, we eat our evening meal in silence, all too nervous to speak. This time tomorrow, we'll know the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games… it could be one of us here; Lear, Marta, Ria, maybe even me. I shudder. Thinking about it isn't going to make my nerves go away, just make them worse. I don't want to think about the Games, I don't, but I can't help it. I feel the same every year, I reassure myself, and nothing happens. None of my family are entered, so why am I nervous this year?


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as I wake up the next morning, I remember. Reaping Day. The day we find out who the tributes are, that will be participating in the Games this year. I look to me side, where Ria slept, but she isn't there.

"Fenna, are you awake?" whispers Marta, my 13 year-old brother. I nod without looking at him, frozen to the floor. "I'm scared," he says, just like Ria yesterday. I pull him to my side and kiss his forehead.

"Me too," I say, calmly. "We all are."

My mother walks in the room with the special clothes we wear this time every year. Marta takes his shirt and trousers and leaves the room for privacy, I suppose. I reach for my familiar green dress, flecked with darker green spots, that still looks new; this will only be my fourth time wearing it. I remember picking out the fabric my mother used to make it. She said it would match my eyes, and compliment my fiery hair. I quickly undress and slip into it, and my mother fastens it at the back. She is sobbing, I can hear her, and feel her sharp intakes of breath.

"Mother," I say, turning to hug her. We stand there for what seems like forever, but it isn't long enough. When we release each other, I find Ria just walking into the house. Her eyes are blotchy. She's been crying. Without acknowledging me, she takes her dress from the countertop, pulls it over herself, and walks back out again. I open my mouth to speak, but only silence comes out. I feel my mother's hand on my shoulder.

"Leave her," she says, gracefully. I nod.

Once the whole family are dressed smartly, we walk down to the square in the centre of Five. My mother takes both my hands in hers, and kisses my forehead. This may be the last time I see her. I don't want to ever say goodbye to her, or my father. A tear runs down my cheek as I watch them move away and disappear to wherever the people not entered into the reaping go. I never get chance to see, and we don't talk about reaping day after its over.

Lear, Marta, Ria and I are ushered by a Peacekeeper to stand in the roped-areas with all the other Five children between the ages of twelve and eighteen; girls in one area, boys in the other. I hug Lear tightly, and then Marta, before they disappear as well. I take Ria's cold hand in mine and pull her to our roped-area.

Standing on the stage at the front is District Five's escort, Carlos Denver, wearing a gold suit with his hair highlighted with silver. People from the Capitol live in luxury whilst the people in the districts work and live in poverty, and yet they don't bat an eyelid at the thought. Disgusting.

All the nervous chatter I can hear instantly stops as Carlos clears his throat loudly into the microphone. I pull Ria closer to me, unsure of which one of us it comforts more.

"Good morning, District Five!" his voice booms, confidently. "I hope you're all as excited as I am!" He grins his usual, over-enthusiastic grin out towards the silent crowd. "The time has come to choose this year's tributes for the 74th annual Hunger Games, so get ready!"

I feel Ria's hand shudder in mine. There's nothing I can do now, it will be over soon. She won't be picked; her name is only in there once.

"First, a brave, strong woman," says Carlos, fumbling in the bowl for a slip of paper. My name is there four times. Could it be me?

"Fenna Hague." I swallow like there's a rock in my throat, and it hurts. Me, in the Hunger Games. Me?


	4. Chapter 4

I swallow hard again. I'm fourteen, and being made to fight to the death? It never seemed so wrong before. Ria's hand is shaking worse than ever. I lean down to her eye level and hold her head between my hands, her blue eyes filled with tears. She holds my gaze until I'm urged by a Peacekeeper to move. I feel tears in my eyes, so much I can barely see. Taking a deep breath, I kiss Ria on her forehead, and stand up to walk to the front, without looking back for any of my family. I don't want to leave them without saying goodbye properly, but I can't bear to see their faces. It'll be easier for me this way, for all of us.

I try to breathe steadily as I approach the stage. As soon as I'm there, everyone in Panem will be able to see me, and I don't want the other tributes to think I'm weak, an easy target. I'm not. Maybe playing weak will be a good thing? I wipe my face dry and climb the steps at the front of the stage. Straight away, I am greeted by Carlos, who looks even more disgusting up close. I feel his hand on my back as he turns me towards the audience. "Fenna Hague, everyone!" he cheers, and the audience erupts into applause, even if they don't want to.

I make eye contact with Lear before I'm swept to the side so Carlos can have centre stage again. Did I see tears in Lear's eyes? I thought he would want to volunteer to replace me, but I'm glad he didn't. I want to do this, for myself. Prove everyone that no matter how weak I seem, I can win this. I can, I think to myself, I can. But the more I think it, the less likely it seems. How can I beat the careers, the strong tributes, the smart tributes?

As the audience's applause settles, Carlos clears his throat. "What a brave young lady," he says. Brave? "And now, for our male tribute…" He pauses whilst he reaches into the bowl. I watch his hand swim around the names, choosing the next victim, my opponent. Will I have to kill him? Or will he kill me first?

"Gavell Hanson," Carlos says. The audience clap again, and I squint into the crowd, to pick up my competition. For a while, I don't see anything, but then a Peacekeeper makes his way towards a row of seats, like what happened to me. He must be as lost as me. My heart skips a beat. I can't pity him. He's a competitor. As he walks closer, I can see him clearer; I don't recognise him. He must live the other side of District Five. I see his face as he walks onto the stage. He looks a few years older than me, and much better dressed. I bet he lives in the richer area of Five. Carlos turns him towards the crowd and sweeps him to the side, before closing the ceremony.

"May the odds be ever in your favour," he says, looking towards Gavell and I. Like the tributes I see on this stage every year do, we turn to each other and shake hands. I look at him for the first time, my competition. He looks my age, perhaps a little older, with brown eyes, just like Marta's, and his hair an almost black. He smiles unsurely at me as he firmly shakes my hand, and then our hands drop. I don't want to look at him anymore. I don't want to smile at him. He's my opponent. He might be the only thing that stands in my way of winning. We can't be friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, I haven't updated this story since February… sorry! I've been so busy, and this fanfic hasn't been the first on my list of priorities. Since I last updated it, the film has come out and the world's gone Hunger Games mad! I wonder if all you Foxface fans imagined her like she's portrayed in the films – I thought she was one of the only characters that were similar to how I imagined.**

**I hope everyone is enjoying this fic so far' and please review! :) ~readallday**

Before I can feel my feet touch the ground, Gavell and I are each taken into a separate room. This is where I'll see my family for the last time before the Games. I'm pushed into the room and hear the door shut behind me. I sink to the floor, slumping against a wall. The room I'm put in is quite dark; the only light comes from a small window and a dim lamp in the corner. It seems to make the room a lot more threatening, as if this is a part of the Games. A trick the Capitol is playing on me. But it's just a room.

I hear a knock on the door and Ria, Marta and Lear walk in. Ria runs straight to me and collapses in my arms. I hold her close. She needs to know I am her big sister, and will always look out for her no matter where she is, or where I am, be it alive or not. Marta kneels down in front of me, and Lear sits in the armchair facing away from me. He clearly doesn't want to look at me, but I don't understand why. Marta is looking straight at me. His face shows no sign of tears, more like he's stunned, shocked. I reach towards him and take his hand in mine and we sit there for a while, no one knowing what to say. I decide to break the silence.

"Look after everyone, won't you?" I tell Marta, softly. He nods. "Don't let them be scared." He nods again, and looks up at me, his green eyes watery.

"Please don't go," he says, his voice sounding strained. I close my eyes.

"I have to," I say, "but I'll try my best. I won't give in. For you, for father, mother, Lear and Ria. For everyone in District Five." I tear slips down my face, and I wipe it away. Marta just nods. Ria is silent.

The door slams open and a Peacekeeper barges in, telling them to go.

"Wait," says Lear, finally. He gets up from the chair and faces me, so I stand and hug him tightly. The Peacekeeper approaches him, but for some reason, doesn't interrupt yet. Lear leans to whisper something in my ear. "I'm so sorry I didn't volunteer," he speaks softly. "I was selfish. I was wrong. I was too late." I don't reply. I understand him, but I'm afraid I'll say something that I will regret.

"The family need you," I whisper back, still holding onto him close. "I love you for not volunteering, and I would've loved you if you had. You're my brother, Lear." He pulls away, holding my shoulders and smiles at me, before the Peacekeeper takes them all away.

Almost as soon as the door is shut, it is reopened when Father walks in, and we just sit against the wall and talk about everything, nothing, something. And he tells me how to survive in the Games.

"Remember what your grandmother was like," he says. "Eat what you know, steal if you have to. You're quick and clever. You'll know what to do."

"But what if there isn't food to forage? I don't know how to hunt, and I can't kill anyone, I can't." I surprisingly finish the line without crying. I want to listen to my father; I don't want to spend the whole time crying. He needs to know I am strong.

"It's a difficult thought, but remember: there will be people very different from you in that arena. Especially the Careers: they're there to win. They won't feel sorry for you; they will kill you if they get the chance. Just, don't let them. Stay away from the other tributes; let them do the killing. Find a safe place with food and water, just survive and stay out of the way." I hug him. I will remember this advice; find a safe place with food and water. Survive, and stay out of the way. If I disappear, I'll be forgotten whilst the other tributes find and kill each other. Maybe I won't need to kill anything... or anyone. But what if I can't find food? What if the arena is just water, and no land? I think that was what it was like one year… so many died on the first day. Or what if there are no plants, and just animals? _I_ will die on the first day.

When my mother walks in, I stand up and she runs in and wraps her arms around me.

"Oh Fenna," she whispers. I can feel her tears falling on my shoulder. I don't reply. I don't know how to. She pulls away slightly and reaches into her pocket. "Hold out your arm," she says, kindly. I do, and I watch as she carefully fastens a tiny, silver chain around my wrist. Hooked onto one of the hoops is a gold charm in the shape of a flame. Why a flame? I look up at her and she laughs through her tears.

"It belonged to my great-grandmother. She had a friend, Hera, who was entered in the Games, but didn't win. She made this bracelet in memory of Hera and wore it all the time. It has been passed on to my grandmother, my mother and then me, and now I want you to have it," she says. "I hope it will be something you will have to remind you of us." She turns away, wiping away her tears. I hadn't realised I was crying too.

"Thank you," I say, my voice breaking. And she turns and hugs me tightly, quickly, kisses my forehead, and leaves.

That's it. She's gone. They've gone. That may be the last time I see my family, District Five, everything. The arena might be the last thing I ever see. _No_, I think to myself. I will survive the Games, I won't give up. I just hope I'll still be thinking that when I step into the arena.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hopefully I'll be updating the story more regurlarly from now on because it's getting more interesting to write :D Again, please review! :)**

Once Gavell and I have both had our time talking to our loved ones, the Peacekeepers take us to the train station and onto the train that will take us to the Capitol. I can see Gavell is shocked, more than upset, like Marta was. His face is pale and his eyes look tired, stressed. I'm not surprised. I am too.

Once we are inside the train, I am shown to my room, which feels strange. I've never had a room to myself before. The walls are painted white and there are bright ceiling lights. There is a freshly made bed on one side of the room and a door to a private bathroom. Another door leads to an area for dressing. To me, it is all too luxurious and unnecessary. I'd much prefer to sleep on a few blankets on the floor. Then again, I need to leave the thought of home behind me, as well as the Fenna that does nothing. I need to be Fenna, the girl to watch, the one no one knows about.

I quickly change into a pretty, pale grey dress that has been left on the bed for me, and walk into my private bathroom. It looks much like the other room, with white walls, but instead of a red-brown coloured carpet, it has blue tiles. All of the colours in the rooms seem so strange to me. The house back in Five has cracked, dull, cream walls and stone floor in every room. I stand in front of the sink and splash water on my face, feeling the cold liquid. So much has happened today, and I had hoped it would help me think straight, but it hasn't. When I straighten up, I notice a spotless mirror hanging on the wall in front of me. Our house has no mirrors, only a pocket mirror that was my mothers. I take a good look at the girl I see staring back; her fiery, red hair, face flecked with freckles and bright, green eyes. This is the image the whole of Panem will have seen of me on that stage at the Reaping. My small features and slim build make me seem frail and innocent, like I won't stand I chance. I just want to prove to whoever I can that Fenna Hague doesn't give up easily.

I step out of the room once my head is clear, into the hallway. I can just make out the back of Gavell as he walks into a room full of polite chatter. I've been told we are having a meal with our escort and our mentors. I know from previous Games that each tribute has a mentor. The mentors are chosen from previous Victors of the Hunger Games, but I don't remember who District Five's are. In some Districts, the mentors are on stage with the escorts at the reaping, but for some reason, Five's aren't.

"Fenna!" cheers Carlos as I walk through the door, in to the room that's buzzing with excitement. He sits at a large table, in between a young man with curly, dirty blond hair, and an older woman. On the other side of the table sits Gavell and a chair beside him that Carlos is pointing to. "Come, sit!"

As I sit down, Carlos bursts alive and begins introducing everyone. I find out that the man is called Brawn Tobin and won the Games four years ago, when he was eighteen. I can't imagine what it would feel like on your last year of being entered, to actually be chosen. Brawn smiles at me when Carlos introduces me, and shakes my hand firmly. He doesn't seem so different from most people I see in Five, in the way he looks, which seems odd seeing as he lives in Victor's Village, one of the richest parts of Five. I guess it isn't as rich as I thought.

The female mentor I am introduced to is Marabel Brite, who won the Games a long while ago. Her hair is grey at the roots, but mostly a light shade of brown. Her face is friendly, with laughter wrinkles, like my grandmother had. I suppose she must be around fifty years old.

"So, now we are all acquainted, let's discuss tactics!" Carlos says, excitedly. Nobody else on the table seems to feel his enthusiasm. "Brawn, do you want to say anything?"

Brawn nods and quietly clears his throat. "Yes, thanks Carlos," he begins. "District Five is a pretty average contender in the Hunger Games, I suppose. We've won the Games seven times, which isn't too good, but is enough for us to not come across as competition, which is one of our strong tactics. Our main advice to you guys is to stay out of the way, behind the scenes if you like." Funny. Exactly what my father told me to do. Must be common knowledge in District Five.

"Yes, yes!" agrees Carlos, clapping his hands together. I catch Marabel rolling her eyes at him, and she smiles at me.

"Do either of you have any special talents?" asks Marabel, kindly.

"I'm quite good at running. I'm fast," says Gavell. He leans back in his chair, a smug grin stretching across his face.

"Yes, yes!" repeats Carlos. "You'll be good at getting away from attackers!" Gavell nods in a reply, arrogantly. "In the arena, you must run, run!" says Carlos. To me, he looks like he has no idea what he's talking about.

"And what about you, Fenna?" asks Brawn, kindly. I catch him rolling his eyes at Gavell's remarks.

"Well, a can forage for food like berries," I say. "I have to find a lot of wild food for my mother to cook. We live in a poor area, so we can't afford much." Brawn nods, thinking. Out of the corner of my eye I see Gavell holding in a smirk.

"Is there a problem Gavell?" I challenge. It is unlike me to be upfront like this, but if I'm to be considered a Victor of the Games, I must act tough. Gavell's eyebrows lift in surprise at my challenge, and he faces me.

"Let's face it," he scowls. "Do you really think you stand a chance?" He sneers, knowing he is going too far.

"Yes actually, Gavell. And I have more confidence in myself than I have in you because my skill is a survival skill."

"But I can run away if an attacker comes near me, Fenna. What can you do? Throw some berries in their face and hope for the best?" Again, he laughs in my face.

"I'm wise enough not to go near them in the first place."

"Whatever, poor girl." I roll my eyes at his ignorant remark. I can think of a million thinks I want to yell at him at this moment, but I know that once the training session starts, he'll be dangerous, and I can't afford to make an enemy this early on.


	7. Chapter 7

Once I am safely back in my room after the meal, I feel calmer. The room somehow comforts me, and despite my longing for my own home, being alone again is an acceptable replacement at the least. A soft, pale blue nightdress has been neatly laid out on the bed, so I quickly strip off my previous dress and pull the nightdress over myself. I fold the old dress in half and place it on the floor by the door. Whoever keeps entering my room and providing me with different dresses must do something with the old ones.

I walk across to the opposite end of the room where a large window sits, and pull back the elegant, cream curtains. They feel as soft as water in my fingertips. Outside, the night has engulfed the scenery surrounding the train. I watch the landscapes sweep by, too quickly for me to focus on the details. My fingers trace the glass of the windows, longing to break through and run into the night, but there is probably some kind of security set up stopping me.

Nerves swim around in my stomach. I want to be home. I don't want to do this.

This is beginning to feel like a failure. All of Panem was watching the Reaping, and I would be shocked if any one of those millions of people didn't laugh at me, or say, "She has no hope!" I just have to prove them wrong, but how? It's easy to think about being 'the one to watch' in the arena, but actually _becoming _that person isn't so easy. I can't be the centre of attention; I'd be an easy target. _Just survive and stay out of the way,_ as my father told me. And I will.

I slip into the warm bed and pull the covers over my head, trying to calm the thoughts circling my mind in the hope of gaining a decent night's sleep.

A quiet knock on the door is what awakens me the next morning. I push the covers from my face and sit up, watching a woman with blood red hair walk into my room and take the old, folded dress in exchange for a new, pale yellow dress, without acknowledging that I am awake.  
>"Good morning," I say, in the hope that she will realise I'm not asleep, but she doesn't reply. She just stares at me.<br>"I'm Fenna Hague," I say. "I love the dresses you are giving me." She smiles and gives me a polite nod. "Back in District Five, I have one dress for special occasions and that's all. It's lovely to get to wear all these dresses. It's quite a luxury." Still, she says nothing. The red-haired woman just smiles at me again and backs out of the room. I wonder why she hasn't said a word. Come to think of it, I've never seen a woman with blood red hair before, or anyone for that matter. It must be some luxury in the Capitol where people can change the colour of their hair.

I take a quick shower and slip into the fresh dress that cuts off just above my knee. The straps are designed to look like ropes and the bottom of the dress is pleated. It suits me well. I scoop up my hair into a bun at the back of my head and walk out into the corridor.

There are voices coming from the same room I ate in last night, so I follow the sounds and enter the room for breakfast.

"Fenna! You look marvellous!" Carlos cheers. _Brilliant, _I think to myself. I had half-hoped that Carlos wouldn't be here. I'm almost sick with his infuriating personality. Brawn and Marabel nod to each other and agree.  
>"Thank you," I smile back. I sit down at the table laid out with all different types of amazing food I have never seen before. I take a plate full and tuck in. "Where's Gavell?" I don't really care where he is, but polite conversation is needed.<br>"I don't know, Fen'," says Carlos. I scowl at the nickname he gives me in disgust. I am Fenna, and no one can change that, but I decide not to argue.  
>"He'll probably be along soon," Brawn says, interjecting the awkwardness that was left.<p>

We eat in silence until Gavell appears at the doorway, looking bothered. He pulls out one of the chairs at the table, making it squeak loudly, and sits down dramatically, his hair ruffled.  
>"I wish these criminals would have a little more courtesy," he huffs.<br>"Criminals?" I question. "Why are there criminals on the train?" Gavell locks his gaze at me.  
>"You haven't seen them?" he says. "They are filthy servants that are supposed to bring us fresh clothes and serve us, but they have no manners at all."<br>"You mean the red-head Avoxes? I'll ask for them to be dealt with immediately, Gavell. We don't want any problems for you two," Carlos says, and rushes off out of the room. Gavell follows him. Brawn and Marabel exchange a sad look.  
>"What did he mean, 'dealt with'?" I ask. The corner of Brawn's mouth twitches uncomfortably at my question.<br>"Well," starts Marabel, with a look that tells me she doesn't want to tell me something. "Panem is a cruel place, Fenna."  
>"I know that," I say. "If it wasn't a cruel place, I wouldn't be here, preparing to fight to the death." She pauses. Her eyes meet mine. They are glossy, as if tears could stream out at any moment.<br>"I'm sorry," is all she says.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for reading this far into my story. Please tell me what you think in a review, and thanks to the people who have reviewed it already :D**

A million 'what if's' float around in my head. What if the so-called 'Avoxes' will be hurt or worse? What if the woman who gave me the nice clothes will be treated the same way? And what did Gavell mean by 'criminals'?

Brawn and Marabel seem like they are hiding something, but I'm afraid to ask. Do I really want to know?

When Gavell and Carlos return, no questions are asked by anyone. Instead, Carlos informs us of the next few days' events:

"Our train will arrive in the Capitol early tomorrow morning. Once we reach the centre, you will be settled into your private rooms and allowed to rest for the day." Finally; some time to myself, I think. "Then you'll be prepped for a procession in chariots, where you will meet who you will be fighting." _Fighting. _I've heard that word almost too often to cope with. I'm not going to fight anyone.

"The day after that, the training sessions will begin," Carlos continues.

"Training sessions?" I ask.

"All tributes must be appropriately trained for whatever setting they are to put into," answers Marabel with a smile. She seems to be 'making up' for the Avox situation, trying to gain my forgiveness. I don't blame Marabel or Brawn for the harsh punishment to the Avoxes; I just don't want to think about it.

"What kind of training?" asks Gavell.

"Throwing knives, setting up traps, that kind of thing," Brawn tells us. Maybe I'll be able to learn something, and fend for myself in the arena.

"What happens after the training?" asks Gavell, eagerly. I'm unsure why he acts so eager; I doubt he actually wants to fight. I suppose he is trying to show off or something.

"You'll have to perform your skills in front of the game-makers and they will rate you out of twelve. Twelve being the best," answers Carlos, a more serious expression on his face.

"Why do we have to be rated?" I ask.

"So people are able to choose who they think will win, and place their bets."

"We're real people. Not something you can gamble on," I say, bluntly. Carlos just stares at me.

"So after that?" urges Gavell, impatiently. He folds his arms and grinds his teeth sharply, sending a wave of shivers down my spine.

"The interviews," says Brawn, taking over from perplexed Carlos. "You'll each have an interview with Caeser Flickerman, as a final step before the games. And don't hold back either. Be yourselves. But I suppose we'll give you two more advice when the time comes."

I nod. Speaking in front of an audience is something I've never done, and I hoped I would never have to do.

"After the interviews, it will be just days until you are in the arena. So not long at all," says Marabel, holding back an apologetic look.

The remaining hours of the day drift away like clouds, way out of reach. I spent most of the day in my room, lying on the bed with my face staring at the blank walls. I wondered, _how many other tributes had lay in this bed before the games? Just counting down the days until they were sent to their deaths? _I stared at the cracks in the walls, thinking of the tributes before me, from all districts, that were as afraid as I am now. How many? Too many.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for reviewing, it means a lot :D  
>Also thank you to 'The Irritable Nerd' on Yahoo Answers for helping me with some names for the prep team :D<br>I love you for reading this :)**

I sleep restlessly the night before we arrive in the Capitol. For a large portion of the night, I lie under the covers, clutching my hands to my face and trying to hold back tears. When I'm alone, I'm left to the company of my own mind, and all my thoughts just explode out. My vision is blurred with the faces of my family; Mother, Father, Ria, Marta, Lear. All of them, and I can't see anything but them.

The only reason that I knew it was morning was when the red-headed Avox came into my room again, to swap the dresses again. When she arrives, I quickly get up, wanting answers. I gently close the door behind her, leaving her confused, and her eyes widen.  
>"Don't worry," I soothe. "I just want some answers." She shrugs, defeated. "Can you speak?" The woman shakes her head. This is going to be difficult. "Why not?"<br>She doesn't answer. I'll have to stick to asking questions that can be answered with 'yes' or 'no'.  
>"Were you punished yesterday? Carlos said you would be dealt with," I say. "Gavell, the male tribute, told him that his Avox was rude or something." She lifts her hand and slowly forms a fist and softly pushes it into her cheek, gesturing violence. So he was beaten.<br>"Were you hurt?" I ask. She shakes her head. Good. I couldn't live with myself if this kind woman was punished unfairly. She hands me the dress she had laid out on the floor, nods, and then leaves. I still need to find out _why _she can't speak, but I'll have to ask someone who will tell me truthfully, even if it's someone I cannot stand; Gavell.

I take a shower and slip on the new dress. This one is more Capitol-style, I suppose. First impressions are important. The dress is red, with a puffy layer inside that makes the dress stick out more, but not too much. It's still a beautiful dress. The bodice is decorated with clear beads which reflect the lights, making the whole dress glow. I twist my fingers through the tangles in my hair and tie it in the usual bun. I hate feeling my hair on my neck. I'm not sure why.

The moment I step out of my room, I sense the excitement shared by everyone. I enter the same room and see Carlos, Brawn, Marabel and Gavell all pressed against the windows, trying to take a peek at the city; so excited that they don't even notice my arrival.  
>"Are we here?" I ask, to get their attention, even though I know we are. I can see the massive buildings even standing at the doorway.<br>"Oh, Fenna! Isn't it wonderful?" Carlos answers, almost crying with enthusiasm. I rush to the window.

I have never seen a place so abnormally beautiful. Everything about it screams individuality, unlike District Five where everyone lives in the same creaking shacks, works in the same power corporation and wears the same mud-covered clothes. Outside, each person wears something unique and bright, with their hair very extravagant and odd features. One woman walks past with long, purple eyelashes and I see a man with a display of blue spikes of hair gelled on the top of his head. The Capitol buildings are tall and clean, and the ground is paved with light grey slabs arranged in arcs everywhere. Frankly an architectural masterpiece of a city.

"It's…amazing!" I say, almost speechless.  
>"Isn't it just fantastic? I'm so happy that you like it!" Carlos cries with excite. "Right, let's get moving!"<p>

We walk from the train into a huge building held together by tiny, white bricks set out in organised rows. There is a buzz about the place; people are rushing around trying to arrange everything.  
>"So first, you'll meet your personal stylists," Brawns tells me as we stand in what I'm told is an 'elevator'; a big box that we are closed in and the floor rises or lowers and takes us to a different floor of the building.<br>"Stylists?" I repeat. He laughs a little.  
>"Yeah," he grins. "Didn't read up on the Hunger Games then?" He nudges me, laughing. I smile.<br>"I try to keep as far away from anything to do with the Games, seeing as they are the cause for death and destruction, including my own," I say, intending to end the joking. I don't feel like finding the joy in anything anymore. What's the point in laughing about the 'celebration' in which I am to be killed? There is no point.  
>"Sorry," says Brawn. "I didn't mean it like tha-"<br>"Don't worry," I interrupt. "I was just saying."  
>"I was trying to be funny," he admits, with a smirk, and I can't help but smirk too, at the awkwardness of the moment.<p>

With a ding that announces our arrival on the correct floor, the elevator doors fly open and Gavell and I are led out and into a room with glossy walls and bright orange lights. Marabel takes my arm and steers me towards a woman with a forced smile, revealing her perfectly straight, white teeth. Her arms are by her sides, fiddling with the end of her purple, frilly dress.  
>"I'm Prima, your stylist," she says.<br>"I'm Fenna."  
>"That's a beautiful name. We can do a lot with that, hun."<p>

She sits me down in a white chair covered with dried glitter, opposite a large mirror surrounded by tiny lights.  
>"So, my job is to make you look fabulous for every publicised event, which in this case will be the chariot parade." I only have time to nod between her talking; I'm surprised she has time to breathe. "Bravia? Mirus?"<p>

A man and a woman scurry into the room looking glamorously unusual. The man, Bravia has his violet coloured hair slicked back and wears a flamboyant, violet suit accessorised with a black scarf. The woman wears blue tights and has a yellow dress on that sticks out like mine, with wooden charms pinned to the edges. As I try and look at the detail, she catches my eye and smiles.  
>"These represent all the tributes that have been entered into the Games and haven't won. I like to remember them. Silly, really," she tells me.<br>"I don't think it's silly," I say. "I'm Fenna."

Prima tries to get everyone's attention fixed on her again by introducing Bravia and Mirus as my 'prep team'. I am told that they are in charge, on the whole, of making me look pretty.

"So let's get you ready for the start of something fabulous," Prima says.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here's a new chapter. I hope you like it! The next chapter should be updated soon as it's already mostly written, and I'm hoping I can update the story more during the week. Yay! Hahaa xD So thanks everyone for reading my story and for giving all the lovely feedback :) Please keep doing what you're doing :D THANK YOU! ~readallday**

Immediately, everyone jumps into action and starts giving me a total makeover. Bravia pushes a lever below my seat making it stretch out flat so I am lying down. It's like a bed, but not in the slightest bit comfortable. Bravia and Mirus, under instruction from Prima start ripping out the hairs on my legs, arms and anywhere else they can find them, in a process apparently called 'waxing'. I am reassured that everyone has it done, but with every strip of hair ripped out, I wince with pain. If it will help me somehow get further in the Games and stay alive, then I'll put up with it.

_No pain, no gain._

The seat is then returned to the upright position and Mirus hovers in front on my face, dabbing powders all over my face in various silvers and greys. She plucks parts of my eyebrows away, and trims and styles my hair until she kisses the air and says, "A masterpiece."

When she rushes off with Bravia to collect my outfit for the chariot ride, I take time to look at my reflection. My eyes shine with silver and my cheeks are flecked with gold. My hair is the usual colour, but has been dusted with a silver powder. My freckles have been hidden by cream that matches my skin colour, but hides all the blemishes on my face. It looks like magic. I shudder at myself, but also smile. Even though I hate it not looking like me, I also love it because I don't want to be me in the arena.  
>"So, what do you think of the 'new' Fenna?" says Mirus, with a grin, resting her soft hands on my shoulders.<br>"A little different, but a better kind of different," I say. She nods.  
>"Good. That's good."<p>

Prima and Bravia return with a sparkling silver dress and a matching headdress. Mirus helps me take off my red dress and she slips the new costume on. It fits comfortably, but feels itchy. Bravia pulls back my hair into a tight bun and places the headdress on my head. The headdress is huge and circular, and I don't understand it at all.  
>"So?" beams Prima. "What do you think of it?" She lifts her hands to her face, nervous for my reaction. I can't tell her it's hideous, and I feel ridiculous, and I don't see what this has anything to do with representing my district.<br>"It's brilliant," I say. "It looks fantastic. I love the sparkles."  
>"Oh, wonderful!" Prima cries with joy. "I was so worried you wouldn't like it, that you'd think it was too… I don't know… glamorous?"<br>"It's great."

I don't know whether she picked up on my sarcasm, but judging by her delighted reaction, I'm presuming she didn't. She skips out of the room again, telling us she is going to check on Gavell's reaction to his costume. I hope he won't be too upfront with her. She seems sweet.  
>"So what do you <em>really<em> think?" grins Bravia, the first time I've heard him speak. Mirus giggles. They both latched on to my sarcasm, clearly.  
>"I don't get it," I say, honestly. They both explode in laughter, nodding their heads in agreement. "What in my district has anything to do with silver, glittery circles?" They both erupt in laughter again.<p>

It's nice to laugh again. It feels good. It takes my mind off of everything that is happening.

My prep team lead me back to Brawn, Marabel and Carlos who all have different reactions. Carlos pulls me into an awkward hug, praising me with "You look fantastic!" and other dishonest comments. Marabel seems quietly surprised by my costume, but holds a smile, as if she understands that it's horrible but is trying to tell me that I look okay. Brawn, on the other hand, openly shows me that the costume is horrible.

We stand in the elevator again and out of the corner of my eye, I can just see him grinning like a child.  
>"Is there something funny, Brawn?" I say.<br>"Nope. Nothing at all," he says, letting out a short, breathy laugh, biting the insides of his lips in an attempt to suppress it. I roll my eyes. At least I can find the joke in the outfit. Gavell hasn't said a word since he was dressed, I overhear Carlos telling Marabel. "Too happy for words", as Carlos describes. I have a feeling that he isn't exactly happy.

The doors fly open again and we walk out to an arena lined with seats. There are twelve chariots parked, ready to be driven to the other end of the arena on live television. It's crazy, really, how much the Capitol care about the children they are plummeting to their deaths. They spend weeks finding out about them, and envying their lives, and then they just let them die for their own amusement. Selfish. Digusting.

Gavell and I are ushered into the fifth chariot and we are told to sit there until the ceremony begins. The other tributes are allowed to mingle politely, but one of District Five's policies is to remain in the background, out of the way.  
>"You can't honestly say you like these costumes," says Gavell, bitterly.<br>"No, I hate them. Why would you think that I like them?"  
>"You just seem so positive, that's all."<br>"Of course. I'm not rude."

He gives me a challenging glare, as if he is annoyed at my wit.  
>"Gavell," I say, after a few minutes of awkward silence. "What do you know about the Avoxes?"<br>"What do you mean?"  
>"You said they're criminals, right? What did they do? And why can't they talk?"<p>

Lowering his voice, he tries to explain. 


	11. Chapter 11

**I realise it's later than I said… oops ;) Sorry, I know how annoying I find it when people don't update fanfictions, so I'll try hard to do better! Thanks :) ~readallday**

"Well, they're criminals because they've done something that the Capitol doesn't like, and this is their punishment. Being slaves to all," he tells me.  
>"But they aren't allowed to talk?"<br>"More than that. They can't," he says. I stare at him, and he rolls his eyes when he catches me looking. I want answers, so that's what I'll get. He sighs.  
>"Their tongues were removed because of their actions."<p>

Suddenly, I imagine the Avox that served me. It is not her choice to serve us. She couldn't talk to me because she literally couldn't.  
>I imagine her family, her friends.<br>I imagine how heartbroken I would be if I could never talk again, never able to tell anyone my real thoughts.  
>I imagine her whole world being turned upside down and her spinning around, feeling alone without anyone who understands.<p>

I know how she feels.

"What crime could ever deserve that punishment?" I ask. Gavell shrugs.  
>"I don't know. I don't think anyone does. The Capitol keeps everything so secret. I guess so no one knows what happened, so there won't be any rebellions."<br>"So you know all of this, yet you still hate the Avoxes enough to get them punished further?"  
>"Well, if the Capitol is punishing them this extremely, they must have done something really bad."<p>

"You don't know that, Gavell," I say, infuriated. "If the Capitol is cruel enough to let innocent children fight to the death, they are cruel enough to punish people for no reason."  
>"Well it's not my problem," he grunts.<br>"You are one cold-hearted, arrogant loser," I say, intending it to be hurtful. What's the point in 'playing nice'. I might as well say what's on my mind now, before it gets blown apart in the arena.

"I'm the loser?" He chuckles cruelly to himself. "Just wait 'til the arena. We'll see who's losing then," he says, with a grin.

Does that mean he's threatening to attack me? He can't though. He's from my own district. Can he?

The chorus of trumpets signals the beginning of the chariot parade. Each chariot has it's time to drive down the long stretch and be cheered by the people of the Capitol; their moment to shine. The chariots start moving and I catch sight of the 'careers' from Districts One, Two and Four. And they look dangerous. They each act tough and competitive; they aren't the kind of people I want to meet in the arena, but how can I avoid them? _Survive, and stay out of the way._

When our chariot starts gliding past the stands of people, smiling and waving, I try my best to hide. Gavell stands, waving and grinning enthusiastically. I stand, my hands behind my back, attempting to look plain and forgettable, but not like an easy target. My hope is that they will ignore our chariot completely, and forget about us, so I can stay away from them.

We approach the end of the first quarter stretch and I nudge Gavell.  
>"What?" he whispers, angrily.<br>"Don't draw attention to yourself."  
>"What are you talking about?"<br>"You'll make us easy targets," I say.  
>He lowers his waving hand.<br>"Why are you helping me?" he asks, less angrily. His face relaxes from its frown.  
>"Even if we hate each other, we're still a team. We have to win this for our district, and we can only do that by staying out of the way."<p>

Gavell looks at me and smiles.  
>"For District Five," he whispers.<p> 


End file.
